


A Tune Without Words

by wynnebat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/F, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-24 11:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12011901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: In one universe, there's an empress and a consort. In another, there's a paladin and a druid, and things don't go quite as smoothly.





	A Tune Without Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunarium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/gifts).



> Not completely canon compliant; I've taken some liberties with timelines/characterization. Title from Emily Dickinson's “Hope” is the thing with feathers.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fic, Lunarium! <3

Hira reminds Allura of the old guard of Altean warriors: fierce and deadly on a mission, but calm during downtime, content in the knowledge that Altea is prosperous and safe. Allura yearns to feel a touch of that contentment, just for a moment, long enough to breathe it in. Here in this universe, Altea is still the jewel of the galaxy, mighty in a way that Allura has barely been able to dream of. With Keith gone to check up on the rest of the paladins and the Altean soldiers waved away by Hira, they're left alone in the control room. Allura is bursting with questions, but a part of her is wary to ask them. What if, with her curiosity, she finds a truth she'd wish she never found? She already has so many regrets.

Caught up in her thoughts, Allura ignores the way Hira receives a package of some sort from one of the soldiers who'd briefly entered the room. It's triangular in shape and not large enough for a weapon. When Hira presses the button at the top, it unfolds to become a small table, and the smell of what's inside catches Allura's attention.

"Are those…?"

"Junitreats?" Hira asks, smiling slightly. The expression doesn't seem as natural on her face as the serious look she'd had earlier, but Allura supposes the woman is a general through and through. "Of course. Would you like some?"

"I could never say no," Allura tells her. She hesitates for a moment, staring down at deep red-colored circular cakes, but decides that if it's Hira's aim to kill her, there are easier ways than poisoning. And besides, there's still a reverence in Hira's eyes that makes Allura doubt she could come to harm in the woman's presence. Not unless Allura does something to truly anger her, anyway.

The treat doesn't taste exactly as Allura remembers it—ten thousand years of cultural evolution will do that—but it's wonderful all the same. There's a spicy tang of juniberry roots and a hint of smoke, bound by a similar savory goo to the one her ship makes. Allura has tried to make something close to it, but without the juniberries, she could never come close.

"They were traditionally made," Hira tells her proudly. "Nothing like the processed kind that's popular these days."

"On one of the flaming hot rocks that fall from the skies?" Allura asks.

At that, Hira has to pause. "I had forgotten how they used to be made. No, my lady, these were made on our ships, but at comparable cooking temperatures."

As she eats, Allura reveals, "I made these once myself as a child, collecting the ingredients and finding the hottest rock I could find. I would not allow my father to help me, though he hovered at a distance close enough that he could intervene in a tick if I did something wrong… My father… Is he remembered?"

"His statue stands at the center of the royal capital of Altea. Each child learns of his efforts against the Galra in their schooling before beginning the history of Empress Allura's reign. He is remembered, my lady. He will always be remembered."

Hira looks at her with steady eyes, briefly touching Allura's hand to comfort her, but not making a comment on the fact that Allura's eyes have teared up slightly. In her own reality, even planets in the same cluster as the former Altea now think of King Alfor as a man of times long past, if they even recall his name at all. And the current paladins, for all that Allura adores them, have little knowledge of Altea. They have no personal ties to it at all. Only Allura and Coran remember the taste of junitreats and the kind smile of King Alfor. Allura and Coran, and Haggar, the terrifying druid whose true identity Allura has only recently realized.

She ends up asking Hira too many questions about the fates of her family and friends, but Hira answers each with an intense sort of enthusiasm. They're both fully aware that Allura is no one's empress in this universe, but Hira seems fascinated by her all the same, even inviting her to visit Altea before returning to her universe. It's very likely that Hira's intensity is reflected in her own eyes; Allura can't stop reveling in how nearly everyone she cares about was able to live a long and happy life in this Altea.

There's one question that Allura hesitates to ask, because she knows that it doesn't matter, that this isn't her reality. It has no bearing on her own world. It would only hurt her to know. She asks it anyway.

"There was someone I knew as a young woman, though I saw her very rarely, less and less as… time passed. Her name was Honerva." And then, her name was Haggar, and her beauty had become haggard and twisted. "Do you know of her?"

"Of course," Hira says. "I must have mentioned the empress' consort."

"Not by name," Allura replies, her heart in her throat.

"Consort Honerva, her name was."

"Consort," Allura repeats, her voice soft. Her active mind blanks for a moment.

"Is that not what occurred in your reality?" Hira asks. "Perhaps not as the empress and her head adviser, but as a princess and a…"

"Alchemist," Allura says. "She was an alchemist on my Altea."

"Consort Honerva was one here, as well. Empress Allura had a long life of a thousand and two hundred years, and her consort was at her side even at the beginning of her reign, and was with her when she passed. The story as I've heard it told is that Consort Honerva was a friend to the royal family when the empress was young. The young princess found both her and her accomplishments in the field of alchemy fascinating, and the two formed a bond of friendship and loyalty. When Consort Honerva's then-husband Zarkon joined the Galra revolt, she stayed loyal to the princess, and once she became a widow, the two wed. Consort Honerva fully supported Empress Allura's quest for peace in this galaxy, and from everything I've heard, their marriage was a happy one." When Allura says nothing in reply, Hira carefully says, "I apologize if I've caused you pain, my lady. I assume your reality's Consort Honerva died with Altea?"

Allura wonders what Hira sees in her expression, because she's only barely keeping it steady. She forces to breathe, and then says, "No," and doesn't elaborate.

Hira's empress is not Allura, and the empress' consort is not the Honerva of her own world. But before the fates of their realities diverged ten thousand years ago, the two Alteas were remarkably similar. If Allura had only…

Her head hurts just thinking about it. But her heart hurts even more, and Allura has no time or patience to nurse a broken heart. She's a paladin of Voltron, a princess of Altea, and a woman who knows what true pain feels like. The loss of her father and all of Altea had been pain. This, this is a bruise from a spar instead of a gaping wound. She has lived all her life without Honerva's love. She will continue survive.

"Thank you, Hira," Allura tells her, and Hira knows to take it as a sign that the conversation is over.

Soon, Keith and the rest of the paladins return and Allura has to confront yet another unfortunate fact about this reality. She pushes Honerva to the back of her mind, to where the woman should be.

Honerva should be in her past instead of her present. Should, should, should…

 

*

 

Curiosity only gets you stuck outdoors during a rock shower, indeed. Three quintants since the paladins' return to their own galaxy and Hira's words are still a weight on Allura's chest.

Allura can always feel the Balmeran crystal's energy best in the control room, and finds herself there often. It's soothing, an echo of the strength of the Balmera and its people. The dark expanse of space outside the observation panels gives her a sense of peace and wonder. The Galran empire is vast and terrible, but it's nothing compared to the vastness of space itself. Compared to the size and scope of their galaxy, both she and her enemies are tiny specks of existence. And bravery with a touch of philosophy does make her fears abate.

She hears footsteps behind her, but doesn't turn. "Sleep evades you, too?"

"I believe it's the effect of my newest culinary experiments," Coran tells her, stopping as he reaches her side.

It's a lie, but it's a kind one. She knows that Coran worries over her, both out of respect and friendship, but wounds as deep as Altea will never easily heal in either of them. She can still taste the junitreat on her tongue.

"You read my mission report on the alternate reality we traveled to?" Allura asks.

"Of course. The others', as well. Princess, you mustn't worry over the darkness that befell your counterpart. That reality may have seemed similar to our own before the turning point, but even before your father put us into a deep sleep inside the cryopods, you would have never thought to make such an abhorrent device. There has always been good inside of you, something that must have been lacking in your counterpart. And besides, I have my doubts that the empress was anywhere near as charming as you."

"She likely wore the most gaudy of Altean formal robes, as befitting an evil empress," Allura replies with a smile, amused at the thought. If her counterpart preferred the color pink as Allura did, the robes would have been a sight to behold.

Coran huffs a laugh, but his expression settles into something kind. "You aren't worried about any such evil inside of you."

"No," Allura agrees. Coran's guess was good, but becoming a paladin has softened a self-critical element that has plagued her. She grew up with stories of the lions and how they would only open to those pure of soul. Hers is a proud lion, and would have accepted no less. She has taken on her father's legacy as a princess and a paladin. Her life is her own, but she leads a life she hopes her father will be proud of. And in that life there is no room for the torment of old memories with a woman who hadn't even remembered her during their battle. There had been no light of recognition in Haggar's eyes despite Allura looking exactly as she had ten thousand years ago. It is only Haggar who has changed on her. "I'm worrying over something silly."

"I don't believe you've ever worried over something silly in your life," Coran replies. "With the one exception of that time when you were only two decafeebs old and—"

"Yes, that time!" Allura quickly interrupts, glancing around to make sure there's definitely no one else in the room. The incident with pogo oscillator is one of those memories that she's perfectly content with staying buried. "Must you, Coran?"

"It is one of my fondest memories," he says with a smile. "Your parents and I were so very charmed."

With a very put upon harrumph, Allura returns to the original topic. "There was an aspect of that reality that was never true of this one, but… I wish it were."

"Is there a way to make it true?"

"No," Allura says.

But Coran has known Allure for the entirety of her life. "Because the people involved have passed on?"

"No, not that. The two involved are still among the living, but they aren't the same people they were ten thousand years ago." Allura is no longer the bright-eyed girl with feelings for a woman who rarely left her work, but occasionally gave in, and showed up at balls once a decafeeb and captivated a young princess with her brilliance. That woman acquiesced to tutor Allura in the basics of alchemy, allowed her to hold the fussy Kova, and always left Allura longing for her to stay when she returned to her research. But Haggar's mind, body, and soul have been corrupted so completely by quintessence that there's nothing left of Honerva.

"People, in my experience, even changed people, rarely change so completely that they become unrecognizable. Age and maturity change us, but even as our minds adapt, our hearts stay the same. One hundred, one thousand, ten thousand, however many years pass, I will always wear my mother's colors, and you will always be the cherished child of my king and queen," Coran tells her, and holds her close when Allura hugs him tightly.

"Ten thousand years, you say?" Allura asks against his shoulder.

"For my sanity's sake, I've chosen to believe you don't speak of Zarkon."

"I could have been speaking of revenge instead of love."

"My dear princess, I know that look in your eyes," Coran replies, stroking her hair.

"You should tell me I've gone mad."

"Love makes fools of all of us," Coran simply says as Allura releases him. "Your father was _especially_ foolish when he fell in love."

"I think falling in love with the heir of a rival noble family might have a few differences with falling for a woman who's tried to kill me," Allura argues, but even as she says it, she realizes she's not even trying. She's already come to a decision. She would've come to it all along, because if there is one thing she cannot stand, it's lack of action when something could have been done. "I'll be foolish just once, though. Will you help me?"

"Of course. With my aid, success is positively almost certainly possibly to come!"

 

*

 

A rumor spreads among the Galra, that Princess Allura, upon receiving a grievous injury in the latest battle against Lotor, has retreated to the healing pools of planet Gornuk. At the outskirts of the galaxy, in a region where it's difficult to open a wormhole in the rocky mess of asteroids circling the country, on a planet with an air and quintessence consistency suited mainly towards Alteans or very powerful druids who can overcome the energy in the air, Allura waits for two quintants. The rumors have been set in motion by Coran, so at this point, all she can do is wait. Her lion rests on the edge of the small camp she's created. Allura keeps her bayard by her side.

On the third quintant, Allura gives in to the hot springs that once made this planet a go-to destination for many Alteans. She keeps her protective suit on just in case. The water doesn't penetrate the suit, but it still feels nice to rest against the rocky walls, breathe in the steam, and feel the heat of the water all around her.

She knows it will be difficult to lure Haggar out from the heart of the Galra empire, so she gives her five quintants. It is all the time she can stand to lose in this war.

On her final day, Allura rests her head against the rocky wall of the hot spring, looks up at the sky, and thinks maybe there should be a limit to hope.

And then, her lion's eyes begin to glow.

"It was too much to hope for that you had truly taken an injury," a voice says, and the atmosphere changes in an instant as Allura senses Haggar's teleportation. "But your campaign to lead me here was hardly subtle. You look well, Lura."

Allura lets out a gasp as she spins around in the water. That one word, the nickname that so very few had called her… Haggar looks as dreadful as she had during their battle, her skin gray and her hair a mess, but there's something in her eyes that wasn't there the last time. Even her voice has a different cadence, one Allura instantly recognizes.

"You remember me," Allura says, her heart beating fast. "I had plans that you've disrupted quite thoroughly."

"Tell me about your plans," Haggar says, a pale eyebrow rising.

"I was going to battle you, win, force you to eat corieltis root, and attempt to unlock your memories with the help of the root and the scant knowledge of Altean healing practices that I've managed to learn," Allura tells her.

"You thought you could beat me?" There's amusement in Haggar's tone.

"I beat you once." But it doesn't matter right now. Allura reaches her hand out. "Will you join me?"

With every beat of her heart, she reminds herself that her bayard is within lunging distance and her lion is eying the situation with great distrust. Haggar looks at her with something very much like shock. Allura meets her glowing eyes head on and doesn't falter. She wouldn't have offered this to the version of Haggar who'd tried to kill her, but now, there's reason behind Haggar's eyes. Hardened, determined, most likely evil, but still reason. Haggar takes one step, then another. The skin of her hand is rough against Allura's when she takes it and steps down into the water, letting go soon after and settling in across from her.

The healing waters fizzle around Haggar, but they cannot heal the damage that has been done. Neither can Allura, she tells herself once again. She cannot heal Haggar, nor can she take her will, nor can she manipulate her. She can only speak and see if Haggar will hear her.

"Your clothes will be soaked," Allura says, for nothing better to say. Haggar leans against one of the stone walls across from her, covered to her neck with water. A soft steam rises around them.

"Is that truly your concern?" Haggar asks her. She spreads her arms under the water, her body languid with the heat of the spring.

Of course it is. "No."

"Did you call me here in order to switch your allegiances?" Haggar asks, a knowing tilt in her head. "Perhaps you wished to finally bend your knee to Emperor Zarkon?"

"I would _never_ ," Allura spits out, but stops at the hint of a smirk on Haggar's lips. "You witch. You're evil."

Haggar doesn't argue. "I am."

"You've done terrible things as Haggar," Allura adds, taking a step closer to Haggar's position at the other end of the spring.

"I assume you'll never forgive me for them."

A case can be made, but Allura will never make it. If Honerva's memories vanished ten thousand years ago and were replaced by an addiction to quintessence and rage, Haggar can't be completely culpable. But there were still choices made and beings killed and tortured, and Allura won't excuse it under the guise of memories gone. Not even for love. And the part of Honerva who has returned wouldn't thank her for it. There had always been a certain level of care that the alchemist had shown her princess, but even then Allura hadn't mistaken it for true goodness.

"No," she replies, a little sadly. Things had been so much easier when she'd been young, when she could look at Honerva through juniberry smoke instead of seeing her clearly. She walks through the water until she stops next to Haggar, close enough that it would be hard to evade an attack. "Perhaps you'd like to join me instead? To be with the remnants of your own kind instead of the Galra, to free the world from his tyranny?"

"To lose all the power of being an emperor's right hand?" Haggar asks in turn. "You know my answer. You've always known. I value power, and you would never let me have it."

This close, Allura could get lost in the glow of her eyes. It should be horrifying, but Allura doesn't feel hypnotized. She feels… like a princess just past her majority, at a ball she'd had no hand in planning, sneaking off and finding a woman in the shadows who'd rather not be attending.

"You may be his right hand, but if he truly wants something, he'll ignore your advice. Is that true power?"

"Is bending to the whims of every planet that cries for help and working under a brat decafeebs younger than yourself what you call power, _princess_?"

"There's power in love," Allura tells her, and sighs at the face Haggar makes.

"Love led me to ten thousand years without my memories."

"And in friendship."

"Loyalty from my underlings."

"And in the desire to make the world a better place."

"I had very little of that even when you first knew me."

"But you were still different, before. When I was very young, you had a voracious curiosity, but you were never cruel. Not even to the young woman whose feelings you could never return."

"The woman you knew died in a blast of quintessence."

"And I'm not the girl I used to be," Allura reminds her. She's had to grow up under war and chaos, and when she woke up again, she chose a life of even more strife.

"You're a woman grown," Haggar acknowledges, and in one movement, she's nearly too close for comfort.

Haggar's shoulders stick out from the water and the robes that cover them are completely. Allura wants, desperately, to be able to glance down and see how the rest of Haggar's form has fared. Instead, she keeps her eyes locked on Haggar's face, and wonders what Haggar can see in her expression.

"But I was still your senior by many decafeebs when you were born, and now it has been ten thousand years," Haggar continues. Her hand rises up from the water to tuck back a lock of Allura's hair that had fallen close to her eyes, the gesture almost indulgent. Her hand stays there, so close to Allura's cheek that she can almost feel it.

"You don't care about that."

"You're not wrong," Haggar says. "What I care about is—" She stops. "I will never be the lesser creature you wish me to be, even now."

"I don't think I could make you any less than you are if I tried," Allura responds. "I think love, kindness… They make us more than we are, not less." She lifts her hand, slowly, and traces one of the markings on Haggar's face. "Do you truly feel nothing for me?"

"You're weak," Haggar tells her, but there's something in her voice that makes her words fall flat.

"And you aren't as strong as you think you are. You wouldn't have come if you didn't want anything to do with me."

"I came here to manipulate you."

"So did I. I think it worked, at least a little," Allura says.

Haggar makes a rough sound, but before Allura can speak, her words are cut off into a kiss. There's no patience in the kiss from either side, because it's been so, so long since her first wish to kiss this woman. Maybe Haggar isn't Honerva, maybe it's all different, but Allura doesn't care. It's rough, it's demanding, and the way Haggar presses her against the side of the hot spring makes her weak in a completely different way. When Haggar pulls away, she leaves Allura flushed and heady.

When Allura opens her eyes, Haggar is gone.

Allura bends her head back to look up at the blue skies, the two suns up high. She slowly catches her breath. Allura doesn't try to go after her. Instead, she dries herself, picks up her discarded clothing, and pats her lion's leg.

"That actually went better than I expected it to," she tells him, sighing at the low rumble in reply. With their bond, her lion knows better than anyone the complicated jumble of feelings in Allura's chest, but that doesn't mean he approves. Maybe today made no difference at all in Haggar's plans, but Allura still feels strangely light. She knows that despite her earlier decision, she won't be able to stop herself from giving Haggar another chance. And maybe one day, Haggar might actually give in. "Let's go back home."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm also on tumblr as @[crownwithoutstones](https://crownwithoutstones.tumblr.com/).


End file.
